


Hot enough to last

by notlikelybutpossible



Series: Somebody (who loves me) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Furry, Knotting, Lapdance, M/M, Shapeshifting, Strip Tease, Werewolf!Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlikelybutpossible/pseuds/notlikelybutpossible
Summary: Furry Armitage Hux proposes to his werewolf boyfriend, Kylo Ren, at the exact worst possible moment. And then decides to make it up to him.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Somebody (who loves me) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130492
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	Hot enough to last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darktensh17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darktensh17/gifts).



> The lovely [ darktensh17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darktensh17/pseuds/darktensh17) suggested that these two should get engaged.
> 
> And the more I thought about my instinctive, throwaway response, the more I realised that wait, yeah, that _is_ how it goes down…
> 
> Warning: there is a little bit of accidental breath play in here, and y'all know that stuff should _not_ be done accidentally…

They only just make it, before Ren shifts. That night was a full moon, but pissing down with rain and Ren had decided to stay in for once. And Hux had glanced at the clock, taken his hand, drawn him upstairs to bed, and licked and sucked at his cock until he was shuddering with it.

“Oh, Hux, _more_ , please!” Ren gasps, one hand in his hair, all but pushing him down. “Hurry!”

Hux wouldn't particularly mind feeling Ren's human cock transform into his wolf one, while he's holding him in his mouth. As long as he doesn't knot him, obviously. Suffocating on a cock, even Ren's, is _not_ how Hux wants to go out.

He twirls his tongue around the head, lips tight, giving Ren that perfect pressure that always undoes him. His lover is bucking up beneath him, frantic – maybe he can sense the moon rising, pulling his wolf form to the surface.

Hux is an ass, stringing him out like this. But he loves it. They both do. He concentrates, sucking Ren's cock as deep as he can, one hand circling the base, squeezing and twisting, the other tumbling his heavy balls between his fingers, and Ren's back arches, everything tightening, _tightening_ until he explodes with a small, helpless gasp.

Hux's throat works as he swallows Ren's load, licking him clean while the change rolls through his body, a groan disappearing into a soft growl, and abruptly he's licking at Ren's spent, softening wolf cock. He gets up, mindful of his weight on joints that don't bend the same way as human ones. Ren is panting, eyes half closed, still sprawled on his back, paws in the air.

Hux grins at his sated lover. “I win.”

The wolf glares at him. Ren had _told_ him there wasn't enough time before he changed, but Hux had insisted, had persuaded Ren to let him see if he could bring him off quickly enough. He knows exactly what Ren likes, he loves overwhelming him. And he loves a challenge.

He flops down on the bed beside Ren, still grinning, flushed with victory and the exhilaration of the race. His cock is _very_ hard. Ren rolls over to face him, giving him a little whine of encouragement, and Hux takes himself in hand, stroking languidly. Ren chuffs, pleased, cuddling up under his free arm, so he can rub his fingers through dense fur.

Hux chokes on a laugh, remembers clutching that fur stole while his teenage self masturbated frantically. Now he's got his beautiful, brilliant lover next to him, he can feel his warmth and his heartbeat beneath the fur.

He's so lucky. He looks at the wolf. Ren is everything he never thought was real, but wanted anyway.

When he comes, spilling all over himself, Ren leans down and begins lapping it up, tongue leaving big wet splotches on his belly. Hux fondles his ears, and the smooth, soft space between them, and round to his muzzle – until Ren nips at his fingers in warning. Hux surrenders, lying patiently still, until Ren's satisfied that he's clean enough to flop on.

The wolf plonks himself half on top of Hux, weight on his chest, head nestled against his throat, because Hux maybe has a bit of a thing for sharp, dangerous teeth so close to his neck. Hux sinks a hand into the thick fluff of his mane, carding gently, and Ren flicks his tongue out, licking the underside of his jaw.

“Will you marry me?”

Ren's ears prick up, and he leans back, looking at Hux with his head tilted.

Hux swallows. “I… want to spend the rest of my life with you. I can't imagine _not_ doing that. So. Yeah.”

Ren whines frantically, staring at Hux, eyes wide and aghast.

“Oh, the timing is deliberate. I just… I've been thinking about it for a long time, and I wanted you to think about it for at least a few hours before you answer.”

Ren blinks, a snarl starting in his throat. Then he jumps off the bed, padding to the dresser, and takes one of the drawer handles in his mouth, trying to tug it open. It's too stiff, doesn't budge, so he glares at Hux, nodding to the drawer. Hux scrambles off the bed, pulling it open. Ren's clothes still only take up one drawer, and less than a quarter of the wardrobe.

As Hux is hovering, not sure what to do next, Ren shoves his head into the untidy layers of clothes, nosing through, looking for something. He nudges Hux aside to give himself more room, yanking some of the unfortunate clothes out and dumping them on the floor. There's a relieved little yip when he finds it, coming up with a velvet box held delicately in his mouth. He turns to Hux, who holds his hands out automatically, so Ren can deposit his prize on them.

Oh. He already knows what this is. He's afraid to open the tiny thing. Ren is still glaring at him, though, so he makes himself do it. Inside, there's a simple silver ring, designed like a Celtic knot.

Ren's been thinking about this too.

Hux sits heavily on the bed, mind whirling. “I'm an idiot,” he says, forlornly. “Ren, I… fuck. I have a real knack for underestimating you, don't I?”

He can feel wetness on his cheeks – he's crying? Again? Oh for heaven's sake… Ren rolls his eyes, nudging the ring box. Hux takes a deep, shaky breath, rubbing his nose to stem the undignified sniffling.

“I'm not putting it on now. No, listen,” he says, when Ren starts growling again. “Just in case you change your mind, on account of how much of an idiot I am. I don't currently feel like a very good prospect, as a life-partner.”

Ren huffs, putting his front paws on Hux's knees and licking his cheeks, once each, like he wants to get rid of the tears, and then just rests his forehead against Hux's. For a long time, there's no sound or movement except both of them breathing.

Hux squeezes his eyes closed. How has he done this _again_? He didn't want Ren to say yes without thinking. It didn't occur to him that Ren might have _already_ thought about it. Or that he's an adult who doesn't need Hux to help him make his own damn decisions. Sometimes it just… still seems impossible that Ren could want him as badly as _Hux_ wants _him_.

“I love you so much,” Hux whispers. “And you love me too, for some unfathomable reason–” Ren headbutts him, and he almost laughs. “So just… stay with me? Tonight, forever, anything in between. I'll take whatever you give me.” He wraps his arms around Ren in a desperate hug, tears overflowing again, and Ren's pushing him back, until he's lying on the bed and Ren can snuggle up against him.

It's still early to be going to sleep, but Hux drags the covers over them both, feeling childishly safe, with his beloved in his arms and the drumming of rain on the roof. He's still clutching the ring box in one hand.

* * *

When he wakes, he finds Ren's adorably wonky human face glaring down at him.

“ _Yes_ , you absolute fucker,” he says. “Still yes. Always yes. Put the damn ring on.”

Hux is too stunned to move, so Ren leans over and grabs the ring box – he must have let go of it during the night – then finds his left hand and slides the ring carefully down the third finger.

It fits. Did Ren measure his finger while he was asleep or something?

“I can't believe you beat me to it,” Ren growls. “I can't believe you asked me while I couldn't fucking _say_ anything. I can't believe–”

Hux drags him down into an outraged splutter of a kiss, running his hands over Ren's broad shoulders in a slow, apologetic gesture, like he's still stroking his fur. With a grunt, Ren's mouth gentles over his, tongue slipping out to tease Hux's, and they twine all their limbs together, pressing as close as possible.

When the tickle in his throat starts to get annoying, Hux carefully extricates himself, sitting up enough to take a swig of the drink he'd left on the bedside table. He picks it up with his left hand, and the ring makes a tiny clink against the glass. Unmoving, he stares at it, at the little silver band circling his finger. Ren has to nudge him to remind him to actually _drink_.

The ring feels strange, in a way – foreign, _present_. Hux has never really worn jewellery before, and he keeps pressing the pad of his thumb against it, twisting it round, investigating the pattern. He likes not being able to forget it's there. It probably won't be long before it becomes a natural part of him – but that's also quite a nice idea.

“It's lovely,” he says, voice quiet. “It's…” He wants to pick the exact right words for this. “It's intricate but not garish,” he decides.

“I wasn't sure whether men _did_ engagement rings, but I figured we can do whatever we want... And you'll probably end up paying for the rest of it anyway, so I might as well get this in while I have the chance.”

Hux frowns, feeling sheepish. “I didn't get you one... I assumed you'd lose it the instant you shifted.”

Ren chuckles. “That's fair. I would. We gotta get the cheapest, most replaceable wedding rings available, because I _will_ lose at least one a month.”

“You don't _have_ to wear a ring at all…” Hux starts. His fiancé – _fiancé_ – flushes a little.

“I want to try. I want to do it right, if we're doing this. I want the whole 'wedding' package – the ceremony, the vows, the photographs, the cake, the matching tuxedos... _Especially_ you in a tux yes please.” He pauses, nose wrinkling. “I'm not taking your surname though.”

Hux snorts. “Yeah, we'd probably better not mess with our surnames, given that's what we call each other.”

Hux hadn't really thought about a _wedding_ , as opposed to just getting married. But it makes sense that Ren's dramatic, romantic, artistic sensibilities would crave the extravagance of a full-on wedding.

Or… his mind snags on something else Ren said, about doing this _right_. He knows his lover still has hang-ups about his past, about the mistakes he's made. Maybe obeying the baffling traditions of weddings is partly about atoning for that.

“Whatever you want, I will make it happen,” he promises.

Ren blinks at his earnest tone, one eyebrow quirking. “You might regret that offer...”

“I haven't regretted anything about having you in my life so far.”

A long pause. It's obvious Ren is trying to come up with a snappy rejoinder and failing.

“Fuck. Are you trying to make me cry? Is this revenge for last night? Because you are _not_ entitled to–”

“I never want to make you cry, my darling,” he whispers.

Ren whines, a very wolf-like sound, but for once Hux is not making a joke. He brushes a lock of Ren's shaggy hair back behind his ear, thumb stroking over his cheek, willing Ren to understand – and suddenly Ren crumbles, collapsing onto him and hugging him so tightly it feels like he's trying to fuse them together. There's a tremble running through his body that Hux wants to soothe away.

A few deep breaths later, Ren releases him, tugging his hand up and kissing the ring, like he's swearing allegiance to Hux.

“When did you start thinking about marriage, then?” he asks, trying to get back on less emotional ground. “You said it had been a while.”

“Uh. Actually it was at your dad's birthday party.”

“Last year?” Hux flushes – they'd only been a proper couple for a few months at that point.

Ren groans. “Did mum say something?”

“No, no! It was actually your cousin– She didn't _hint_ or anything, it's not that!” says Hux, when Ren buries his head in the pillows. “I just... I was struggling not to stare at her with her boyfriends. I thought it was because they were the first fully-functioning poly relationship I'd seen, but I realised it was more that I couldn't imagine _sharing_ you, even with someone we both loved. I'm not sure I'd cope if you had _friends_.” Ren snorts a laugh. “I want you to be all mine, officially, legally, in the eyes of the government.”

“Wow. Romantic,” says Ren dryly. Hux wants to say he can blame Hux's parents and his utilitarian childhood for that, but Ren knows. Yikes, they'll have to invite at least some of Hux's family to the wedding... And they'll have to make very sure Ren's family know that Hux's _don't_ know about the werewolf thing…

“Hux, I can see you thinking. You're already planning this like a military operation, aren't you?”

“What sort of venue do you want?” he asks, because he _was_ , and that's the first question on his hastily composed list. “Church, fancy hotel, stately home…” He runs out of ideas. “Or there's destination weddings, where everyone flies out to the Bahamas or the Philippines or somewhere exotic and has cocktails on the beach at sunset. They're expensive and a pain in the ass”

He knows – his half-sister got married in _Hawaii_ and his pasty ginger genes landed him with a sunburn so bad he could barely move. Belatedly, he realises Ren would probably find that story passably amusing, so he explains. To his credit, Ren does try to make sympathetic noises instead of outright laughing.

“What about a beach _here_ , instead?”

“That's… a nice idea,” says Hux cautiously. He can see why Ren thought of it, given the number of emotional and/or intimate moments they've shared on the nearby shores. 

Ren rolls his eyes, nudging Hux. “Don't humour me. What's the issue?”

Hux sighs. “The weather will never cooperate, the sand will get everywhere, and it'll be… uncomfortably public,” he says, counting on his fingers.

“Maybe beaches can be just for us, then,” Ren chuckles. “What about using mum's place? I'm sure she'd let us.” Huh. The mansion fits squarely in the 'stately home' venue category. And getting to watch his father's expression as it sinks in that Hux is marrying the son of someone extremely rich _and_ extremely left-wing appeals to his sadistic streak.

“Who's your best man?” The next question. The list is just his immediate thoughts – he'll have to make a project plan after he's done more research.

“Rey,” says Ren, instantly. Hux had got on well with Rey, despite her unswerving idealism. Maybe because she was fond of scolding Ren and he always looked like an adorable kicked puppy when she did…

“What about you?” Ren is saying.

“Phasma.” Of course. She's his oldest and best friend – the one who'd tipped him off about plans to dispose of him, in the wake of the money laundering allegations. She'd followed him all the way to Devon as soon as his new firm had a suitable HR vacancy.

They'd decided to come clean about 'Kylo' being Ren and vice versa, before the lie got too convoluted to handle. Phasma had taken it entirely in her stride, though it's obvious she still wants to smush and baby Ren's wolf form far more than he can stand. Sometimes Ren goes out running with her on the weekends – her height almost makes him look like a regular-sized dog.

“Do you want a 'stag do'?” Hux asks next. Ren bursts out laughing at the sheer disdain he put on those two words. “Well?”

“I can do without a bachelor party, little fox.”

“Don't say that just because _I_ find the idea repellent. Or because I implied you have no friends...” Ren is shaking next to him.

“I had to serve too many groups of boisterous drunk blokes spilling beer and shouting about hiring strippers to inflict that on another bartender, don’t worry. Although… what if _we_ get drunk and _you_ strip and give me a lap dance?”

Hux fixes him with a baleful stare.

“Hey, what happened to 'whatever I want'?”

“I can't dance.”

“Phasma says you can. What was that club she mentioned, from your uni days? That 80's one…”

Hux groans. “Phasma has just been relegated to usher.”

Ren chuckles, kissing the ring again, then his palm, beaming at him.

“What?” says Hux, when he's been trapped too long by that brilliant smile.

“You're going to be my husband,” he says, like he's trying the term out. Hux raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, werewolves don't call it 'mate'?”

“Damnit Hux…” Ren growls, pinning him to the mattress and worrying at his sensitive neck without mercy, until Hux is arching, straining, rutting against him, on the very precipice of coming when Ren finally wraps a firm hand around him, granting him relief.

* * *

Everything's ready. Finally.

It's a Friday evening. Millie's out – he can see a ginger lump lounging in the flowerbeds. Ren's in – and hopefully just thinks Hux is working late, when actually he's spent the last two hours quietly _preparing_.

He's never going to get a better shot at this.

He opens his phone, finding Ren's message thread, which is mostly them each asking the other if they want anything from the supermarket. It takes him a frustratingly long time to compose the text – his fingers are shaking, and he has to stop and fight with the auto-correct a couple of times.

Hux: clear a space in the living room, then get one of the kitchen chairs, put it in the middle, and sit on it

That's a bit brusque, maybe, but he's not sure how else to phrase it. After a moment, Ren sends a reply, which is just three question marks.

Ren: ???

Hux: it's a surprise

Ren: a sexy surprise? (plus an aubergine emoji)

Hux worries at his lip.

Hux: hopefully

Below him, he hears Ren pushing the coffee table out of the way, and winces as a chair scrapes a little on the floor. He's sneaking downstairs when his phone buzzes again – he quickly turns notifications off.

Ren: human form?

Hux: yes, and close your eyes till I say

He'd nearly forgotten both those details.

Ren: i'm in position ;)

Hux pauses, hand on the living room door. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of three generous whisky shots in his belly.

Ren is sitting in the chair, eyes closed as instructed. If Hux didn't know him so well, he'd think he was utterly relaxed, but there's a hint of tension, anticipation, in his frame, his posture a little more upright than usual.

Forcing himself not to rush, Hux draws the curtains, flicks the main light off and the lamp on, creating a nice warm glow. As he slips past Ren to the speaker on the mantelpiece, he trails his fingertips across the man's shoulders, pleased when he twitches, about to reach for Hux.

“Don't touch,” he murmurs, stepping away. Ren's face falls, comically.

Hux pairs his phone up with the speaker, finding the customised track and, after another deep breath, taps 'play'. Then he stands in front of Ren, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, showing him _Hux_ is allowed to touch Ren, but not the other way around.

“Don't laugh, either.” That was meant to sound sultry, but it came out as a plea. Ren tries to follow him, when he pulls away, chasing the brief contact, but makes himself stop, sitting back in the chair, trying to be patient.

“Can I at least _look_?” Hux's mouth twitches. He turns one of Ren's hands palm up, on his thigh, and drops the end of the lead into it.

“Okay. You can look.” As predicted, Ren's eyes go first to the thing in his hand, expression morphing from outrage, as he realises what it is, to wide-eyed confusion as he realises what it's connected to.

Hux swallows, snug collar bobbing. He knows the black leather looks incredible against his pale skin. Right on cue, the first beats of the song begin, and Hux lets the silk robe slide a little further down his shoulders, beginning to roll his hips in a slow figure of eight, the material shifting as he sways. The lead is long enough that he can move freely, as long as Ren doesn't decide to _pull_ on it... He looks too stunned to even _think_ of moving right now.

As the melody kicks in, Hux rolls his body, letting the robe pool on the floor as he does, revealing his carefully selected outfit. In addition to the collar, he's wearing matching leather cuffs that circle his thin wrists, and tiny, tight black shorts framed by a leather harness, straps snug around his waist and thighs, like a garter belt and suspenders.

He can feel his face heating, but luckily Ren's staring at him like he's a work of art, like his mouth might be literally watering, and that helps to stop him turning entirely scarlet. As Hux trails his hands down his chest, his sides, his hips, Ren's gaze follows, helplessly sweeping over his whole body, drinking him in.

“Fucking hell, Hux,” he groans, adjusting the sudden bulge in his trousers. A sweet flash of relief surges through Hux because it's _working_ , he got it _right_.

He's trying to draw on a confidence and overt sensuality he hasn't used in a decade. The song helps – it was (is) one of his favourites. Maybe not the most suggestive choice for a lap dance, but the memories attached to it are strong enough to buoy him along – all pulsing lights and thudding base and men watching him, greedily, just like Ren is now, mesmerised by the sway of his narrow hips.

He subtly kicks the robe aside so he doesn't slip on it, and then circles Ren, stepping lightly, on the balls of his feet because it makes his legs look even longer and more elegant. He brushes along Ren's tense arms, across his shoulders, pressing his body close, mindful of the lead. Ren's holding it properly now, looped over his wrist – that's either a habit born of months of dog-walking, or the possessive desire to make sure Hux doesn't escape. Hux doesn't mind which.

He lifts one leg, swinging it over Ren and lowering himself into his lap. Ren quickly grabs the back of the chair to stop himself breaking the 'no touching' rule – there's a slight creak from the wood that suggests he's gripping it really quite hard. Hux smiles, holding Ren's adoring gaze as he rolls his hips, grinding gently on his lover, keeping most of his weight off him.

Ren is gratifyingly hard, the firm length of his cock trapped, twitching as Hux teases it. Hux is concentrating too hard to pop a boner now, but the instant he stops, all the blood will rush to his dick because fuck Ren is so beautiful like this, cheeks flushed, lips parted, trembling with the urge to _touch_.

Hux arches into him, nice and close, and then keeps extending as he leans back, spine curving, stomach pulling flat, the lead lying innocently down the centre of his body. Ren's breathing has turned harsh, he can hear it over the beat of the music.

Gracefully, he drops his palms to the floor, supporting himself in a full back bend. The pose has a proper name, but it escapes him right now – the point is that it gives Ren a close up view of his crotch, and the leather straps and metal rings surrounding it. And if he's calculated right, he should be able to–

Tightening his abdominals, Hux lifts his legs, one after the other, swinging them up past Ren's bewitched face and all the way over himself, like a slow, tightly controlled backflip. The lead slips to the side, thank god, so he doesn't get tangled in it.

“Show off,” Ren mutters, nearly making Hux lose his composure. He might not have Ren's brute strength, but he's got tone, poise and flexibility on his side, and damn straight he wants to show them off.

When he's righted himself, he drops his hands to Ren's knees, pushing them apart on beat, and sinking between them, arms and shoulders working to slide his mouth over the tent Ren's pitching, close enough that the man can feel his breath. His body undulates, hips rolling in a smooth parody of sex, making soft little moans for effect.

He maintains eye contact with Ren as he pushes up, following the song as it builds to the chorus. Ren whines, tormented, but Hux just gives him a quick wink, circling him, playing with the lead as he spins and drapes himself over Ren's shoulders, too briefly, gone before Ren can turn his head to try to kiss him.

He straddles Ren, facing away this time, flipping the lead over his shoulder and grinding the modest globes of his ass into the man's groin. One of the video tutorials he'd watched suggested twerking in this position, but even with a good bit of practice, the move had never felt properly _fluid_ , so he doesn't try it.

When Ren's control fractures enough that he bucks up, trying to chase the not-enough pressure, Hux slides off him, spreading his legs and bending forward, making himself into a perfect triangle, his ass upturned towards Ren, straps pulling tight over it. The man doesn't have to know this is another repurposed yoga pose.

Slowly, achingly slowly, Hux lets himself sink down, chest first, legs sliding wider and wider, until he's flush to the floor. It's a _good_ stretch, down the inside of his thighs. And it makes his ass look fantastic. Ren makes a noise that might be sympathy, or might be pure desperate arousal.

“You can do the splits,” he whispers, awestruck. Ren _knows_ Hux is flexible – quite apart from the variety of things they've explored in the bedroom, Hux has 'modelled' for him a couple of times, when he needed a position reference. He’d offered after he walked in on Ren trying to contort himself into a complicated pose _and_ take a photo, and failing spectacularly at both.

Hux holds the splits for a few more beats, the last bars of the chorus shivering through him, and then swings a leg round, spiralling to face Ren, kneeling before him with perfect timing as the song ends, offering him his body, flushed and panting though it is.

As quiet returns, neither of them move. Ren seems like he might be under some kind of enchantment that hasn't worn off yet.

“I…” he starts, swallowing. “I'm not sure I've ever been this hard.”

“Let me help you with that… master,” Hux whispers. When Ren just blinks at him, he flicks his eyes to the end of the lead, still loosely clasped in Ren's hand.

“Oh. Fuck.” Still moving like he's in a trance, Ren winds it a bit tighter, and gives a gentle, experimental tug. Hux follows easily, letting himself be drawn towards Ren's crotch. He looks up with the best worshipful expression he can manage, hands sliding reverently along Ren's thighs, and waits for Ren to figure out he needs to give him orders.

Finally the lightbulb clicks on, and Ren's eyes focus. “Take me out,” he croaks.

Obediently, Hux undoes his belt, nimble fingers popping the fly open and easing his rock-hard erection out of his boxers. He glances up, wanting more instructions. Ren looks… wrecked. Maybe it's a bit mean to expect him to switch into this scene with no warning, but it’s not their first foray into master/servant play.

And Hux absolutely couldn't have explained himself beforehand, partly because he wanted the whole thing to be a surprise, mainly because explaining would create _expectations_...

“Master…” he purrs. “Command me.”

Ren rallies, thank god. “Fuck. Okay. Fuck... Lick me, suck me – get me nice and wet with that talented mouth, little fox.” He tugs the lead again, and Hux gasps, and not for effect – the leather tightening on his sensitive neck is powerfully erotic.

He lets Ren guide his mouth onto the head of his cock, swirling his tongue a few times before closing his lips around it. Ren swears, hips shifting, not quite bucking up, but close. Hux sucks softly, being generous with his tongue and stingy with the pressure, teasing him, knowing that always drives Ren mad. It's not as if he _wants_ Ren to come like this.

Ren's free hand settles in his hair, holding him down, and he pulls the lead again, earning a startled moan from Hux. He'd managed to ignore it during the dance, most of his concentration on not strangling himself, but _now_ , now they've moved into sex, the constant presence of the collar is… enticing.

He ducks further down to suck gently at Ren's balls, still contained in his boxers, getting the material damp so it clings to them, translating the movement of his tongue straight to his skin. Before Ren can complain about that, he starts to kiss his way back up the man's cock, mouth wet, lips soft.

Every time it flexes, it hits him in the face. His hands are still resting on Ren's thighs – his master hasn't said he could use them, after all. Another insistent tug on the lead and Hux captures the tip in his mouth, sucking him down as deep as he can go – which is barely half of Ren's full length – swirling his tongue around him like a pole dancer…

Oh. Interesting. His brain supplies an image of Ren watching him, in this leather getup, swinging and grinding and hanging off a stripper pole, and he has to shut that down. He barely made it through a lap dance without dissolving into a puddle of cringe.

Above him, Ren makes a pained, hiccupping sort of sound, hand drifting down from Hux's hair to stroke his hollowed cheek. Hux does his best to look up at Ren, despite the steep angle, sucking a fraction harder.

“Gorgeous,” Ren whispers. And then, rougher: “Can I fuck you? Please?”

Hux kisses the head of his cock, murmuring against it. “Anything you desire, master. My body is yours. Use me as you wish.”

“Bloody–” Ren curses.

Hux suppresses a grin, pulling back until the lead stops him, giving him pleading, doe eyes until Ren remembers to allow him more slack. He turns round, elbows to the floor and ass to the ceiling, presenting himself for Ren, _not_ laughing when Ren nearly trips over, trying getting his clothes off as fast as possible without letting go of the lead.

He kicks the chair away and all but falls onto Hux, a warm, heavy weight blanketing him. Palms cover his ass cheeks, squeezing, and then Ren's scrabbling at the shorts, groaning as he realises the leather harness prevents them being pulled off. A few deep, ragged breaths, and he seems to regain a modicum of control.

“How do you undo these?” he pants, touching the leather. The main buckle is on the waistband, but it seems Ren can’t parse how it all connects together, not right now.

“You don't.” Ren makes a truly inhuman noise, but he doesn't immediately shred the shorts – instead he reaches underneath, stroking the bulge of Hux's erection, trapped beneath the soft material, with something bordering on reverence.

“Next time, silk,” he whispers. “Something light and fluttering that can barely contain you when you're soft. The _contrast_ …” He bites off another groan, frantic fingers gripping, yanking, and the flimsy shorts rip – they're cheap things, practically designed for this kind of treatment.

Ren doesn't stop until he's divested Hux of them completely. And then he very much stops.

“What's this?” He taps the jewelled base of the plug, where it's nestled between Hux's cheeks. Hux shivers as the metal sends tiny vibrations deep into him.

“I prepared myself for you, master,” he says.

“Nngh,” is Ren's cogent response. He leans back, unhanding Hux for a moment, and Hux glances over his shoulder to see him palming his own cock, appreciating the view that is Hux's slick, plugged asshole, on display, framed perfectly by black leather.

Hux can't help the way he clenches at the inspection, the plug shifting pleasantly inside him. Ren's face splits into a grin, and he gently twists the base, making the thing rotate, and Hux whimpers, fingers fisting in the rug.

When Ren starts to ease the plug out, entranced as his hole spreads wider around it, Hux closes his eyes, letting his focus narrow to the loosening, pulling sensation in his ass. He tries to relax into it, but he still shivers as he's stretched and _held_ around the widest ridge, Ren still twisting the plug for effect, until he finally carries on, slowly, the next ridge popping out, and the next, until only the very tip is left.

“Holy shit, you had all this inside you?” Ren breathes. Hux deliberately got the largest model available, for the lovely full feeling it gives him – and because at its widest, it's as thick as Ren. The lube he'd stuffed inside himself is starting to leak out past his loose, twitching rim, and Hux has to fight not to wriggle or push back, eager to take Ren's cock instead.

“How were you _dancing_ with this in? Could you feel it?”

“Yeah.” He's _very_ glad he'd practiced with the plug in – it didn't exactly inhibit his movements, it was just very much _there_ , a solid, unyielding object that forced his body to mould itself around it.

Instead of removing it, Ren pushes the thing back in, letting it almost settle before he draws it out again, fucking Hux gently. The lube makes an obscene squelching sound.

Hux is on the verge of demanding Ren's cock, when he remembers he's meant to be in character, and it's not his role to _demand_ anything. Voice trembling, he manages to reframe it as a plea.

“Master! Please, _please_ fuck me! Let me have your cock! I'll be so good for you, I promise.” Ren chuckles behind him.

“You're always _good_ for me, little fox.” He angles the plug so it pushes into his prostate, and Hux gasps, eyes closing, his unattended cock starting to drool precome as it bobs between his legs. “What would you do, if I refused to fuck you?” Ren purrs.

“I'd… I'd wait for you, master. I'd stay right here like this – I'd have no choice. I exist for your pleasure. Whatever you want, you only have to give the order.” If Ren wants to test him, he can – Hux is _just_ drunk and _plenty_ horny enough to let his dignity go, for the sake of the scene. He was kinda hoping he'd have gotten Ren so worked up that he couldn't waste time ordering Hux to do anything absurd, though…

Behind him, Ren tucks a finger under one of the leather straps, snapping it lightly, and lets the plug slip fully out. Hux hears a clink as he puts it on the coffee table, and makes a mental note to disinfect that later.

“Lube – shit!” Ren curses.

“In the drawer.” Hux nods to the coffee table, and Ren dives back over, yanking the drawer open and coming out with a small bottle.

“You… sly fox,” he says, pumping some directly onto his cock and spreading it quickly. “You had this _all_ planned out.”

“Yes, master.” He did. He’s not a natural performer, or improviser. It had taken _months_ of covert activity to design a routine, practice it, edit and re-edit the track, acquire the pieces for his outfit, practice some more while wearing it – and that was in addition to the warming up, stretching (internal and external) and courage-drinking he’d done tonight.

And it was all worth it, because now Ren is lining himself up, pressing in and in and _in_ with his impressive cock, easing Hux's thighs further apart so he can settle right between them. _Fuck_ , he goes so much deeper than the plug, stretching Hux around him, demanding space and filling it completely. Hux whimpers, forehead pressed to the rug as Ren enters him in one long, delicious slide.

“Oh god,” Ren is panting, “you're so wet and _open_ for me. You just take me right in, all the way.”

“Of course, master,” Hux gasps, the depth of Ren's first thrust pushing the breath from his lungs.

His lover starts moving, hips pumping frantically, using his whole length to rearrange Hux's insides. Large, warm hands are round his waist, over the garter belt, tugging him back to meet each snap of his hips. Hux drops his chest to the floor, elbows wide, curving his back into an elegant concave arc, and one of Ren's hands releases him long enough to trail fingertips down his spine.

“How can I order you around when you're already doing exactly what I want?” he complains.

“My apologies, master.” Ren gasps a laugh, rhythm faltering for a moment, and Hux squeezes his inner muscles, trying to give him a little extra treat.

“Ah! Hux, _darling_ , do that again!” He does, and Ren collapses forward, hands covering the cuffs on his wrists, pinning him down and pounding into his ass, giving it to him punishingly, _perfectly_ hard.

“Master, please!” God he's so big, Hux feels like he's being split apart, like Ren's using him as nothing more than a hot, tight sleeve for his pleasure. He's ecstatic with it.

There's a nip at the back of his neck, a deep growl starting to reverberate from Ren. He's always at his most wolf-like in this position, and obviously Hux has made _plenty_ of doggy-style jokes, but he refrains this time. It would break character, sure, but mainly... he _loves_ making Ren lose himself, lose control, until he can't do anything except fuck Hux as hard as he can.

Fur is rippling over him as he forgets to keep himself in one shape – Hux can feel it on the inside of his thighs, sliding across his back, the shape and weight of Ren altering on top of him as he slams home, desperate, nearing his peak. Ren's cock is changing inside him, and that's a _lovely_ sensation, almost like something _wriggling_ , stretching and reshaping him to suit.

The hands pinning his wrists slip off as they become more like paws, and Hux weakly brushes his fingers over the lead, still looped securely around one, trying to tell Ren how much he adores this when he’s gasping too much to manage _words_.

With a growl, Ren drags himself back to human, making Hux shudder as his cock expands again.

“Touch yourself!” he orders. “Bring yourself off, little fox – milk me with that ass, squeeze me until I give you my load.” Hux twists, getting an arm underneath him, a bolt of pure _need_ zapping through him as he takes hold of his neglected cock, stroking it quickly.

“That's it,” Ren pants, as his ass contracts. Hux feels enveloped by sensation, with Ren surrounding him, inside him, _commanding_ him. It's perfect, it's wonderful, it's the best kind of gift – something he can give to Ren but take as much pleasure from. Fuck, he's so in love with this man.

That thought tips him towards the edge, suddenly, abruptly, so fast he couldn't stop if he tried, and as his climax begins to shiver through him, Ren _tugs_ , pulling the collar so tight that when he takes a breath he almost _can't_. Shock, fright and deranged arousal combine into a blinding white light that pulses like a heartbeat, and then Hux erupts, spurting onto the rug, feeling endless, infinite, lost in pleasure.

Ren is swearing above him, a string of nonsense that coalesces into three gasped words: “Gonna knot you!”

That's all the warning he gets, before Ren shoves himself as deep as he can go, hips flush to Hux's trembling ass, his knot swelling, forcing Hux to make room for it. Ren howls, a proper wolf sound, and his cock throbs as he starts to fill Hux up with his come. Hux fancies he can feel the warm fluid slipping into his passage, but he's a bit delirious from his own climax, and maybe lack of oxygen – Ren has pulled the collar even tighter as his orgasm wrecks him.

The knot reaches full size, plugging him up, and he's so tenderly full, he might burst if Ren is too rough with him – but Ren is always, _always_ gentle when he takes Hux this way, and this time is no exception. The lead goes slack, collar loosening as Ren slumps over him, and Hux gasps for air, tingles spreading through his whole body. A cold, damp nose nudges around the leather, Ren huffing when he's satisfied Hux has enough room to breathe.

They're both panting, almost in sync, coming down from their shared high. The fur starts to recede as Ren makes himself more human, groaning with the effort, and eases them onto their sides, avoiding the wet puddle of Hux's come. Hux relaxes against his lover, enjoying the warmth of his sweaty, heaving chest. Ren runs a palm down the length of his body, the lead trailing after it.

“Please tell me you're okay, little fox. I didn't pull too hard?” Hux swallows, confirming that his throat is only a little sore.

“I'm spectacular. Carpet burn on my knees, but otherwise great.” Ren's hand comes to his lower belly, rubbing tiny circles over the place where the knot is snugly wedged. Hux has tried before to see if he can feel it, from the outside, but despite the size, it's not close enough to the surface. Ren grits his teeth as another wave of come spills from him, his body going momentarily taut.

“Please tell me _you_ enjoyed that,” Hux whispers once it's passed, giving in to his insecurities.

“I really, really did. Your face, my _god_. You were so focused – like you'd forged my own personal definition of sexy into a blade to carve me up.” Hux isn't quite sure if that's a good thing, but he lets the odd comparison go.

“Thanks for being a good audience. And not laughing.”

“A very small price to pay, for that kind of show.” Ren follows the leather straps from his waist down to the bands around his pale thigh, caressing them. “How did you _know_ about this? I'm always so careful – I use incognito mode, I clear my browsing history…”

“Uh, I was looking through your sketchbooks, the early ones, and I noticed a statistically significant number of beautiful men in bondage gear. Gave me a hunch that your aversion to collars might be somewhat one-sided...”

It would have been nice if Ren had mentioned this kink, but at least he doesn't seem to mind that Hux found out, or took it upon himself to fulfil it. He recognises that he has, once again, pulled that classic Hux move of doing what he _thinks_ someone wants, without actually _checking_.

Ren laughs behind him, the knot jiggling a little. “I'm so glad I didn't hide them better, then.”

“Oh. You hid them?” Hux hates how small his voice is.

“Well… not really. I'm just a bit self-conscious about my early stuff.” Even Hux could tell Ren's style hadn't solidified yet, and his grasp of anatomy was shakier, but the drawings were still excellent, in his opinion. When he explains this to Ren, his fiancé grins, nuzzling the back of his neck.

“That's how I came out to my parents, y'know – mum was tidying my room, cos of course moody teenage Ben never did it, and she found one of my sketchbooks.”

“Ouch. Was she mad?”

“What? That I was gay?” Hux does a quick recalibration. Not every parent reacts badly to that news.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, and Ren just hugs him closer.

“She went on my computer and opened a bunch of 'how to' tabs, about anal sex, blowjobs, bondage play. I can still remember the red-hot horror flooding me when I found them. I don't think I spoke to mum or dad, or even _looked_ at them for weeks.” Hux’s parents hadn't spoken to _him_ for weeks, after he'd finally come out…

“Listen, this is a bit rich coming from me,” says Hux, “but… you know you can always ask, right? Anything you want, even when I'm not your 'slave'.”

“Hmm. Then, would you model for me, wearing this?” Ren tugs the lead, making the collar shift against Hux's neck.

“Only if you actually draw me this time, instead of just jerking off.”

“Damnit.”

Hux grins, closing his eyes, settling against Ren. Then the cat flap rattles, and a moment later the kitchen door gets nudged open and Millie stalks in, making a beeline for the prone bodies in the living room. She pushes her head up under Hux's hand, wanting to be petted.

“Millie, girl, you'll have to wait for your tea.” He glances over his shoulder. “Unless you feel like releasing me early?”

“Not a chance,” Ren snarls. He pats around in front of Hux, blindly, until Hux guides his hand to Millie, and she arcs up, purring. He's pretty sure she only encourages them to stroke her because it makes them more inclined to give her food.

When neither man moves, she disengages with a little shake, hopping up onto the armchair and watching them, wearing the cat equivalent of a pout.

“I would have put money on her coming in mid-dance or mid-fuck,” says Ren. Her usual trick is to loudly demand entry to the bedroom just as one or other of them is approaching orgasm. “Actually, no – I'd have bet on _you_ locking the cat flap to keep her out.”

“I meant to,” Hux admits. Of course he'd forgotten _something_ – there was a lot to keep track of. And he'd been plenty nervous. Ren's soft laugh turns into a moan as his knot starts to pulse, and Hux bears down as much as he can, tightening around him.

“Oh, Hux,” he gasps, “That's it, just one more, _take_ it from me!” Ren losing himself inside Hux will probably never stop being one of his favourite feelings.

Once his aftershocks have tailed off, he nudges the collar with his nose. “What inspired this whole performance, then? Please tell me it's not some kind of special occasion, cos I have straight up forgotten if so.”

To be fair, the 'inspiring' conversation was a few months ago, and Ren doesn't have the same detail-oriented memory that Hux does. He hoards the little things Ren says – comments, jokes, wishes, preferences – wanting to keep them, possess them, wanting to know Ren better than anyone else.

“I was trying to make up for this whole debacle,” says Hux, raising his left hand. Ren threads their fingers together, touching the silver ring.

“...A fucking _lap dance_ ,” he realises. “You're incredible, little fox.”

“It's no more than you do for me, with my… interests,” Hux murmurs, squeezing the now-deflating knot to make his point. Ren hisses with mingled pleasure and oversensitivity.

“Well, you know what?” he says, gathering Hux against him, arms tight. “If this is how you apologise, I think I’m willing to let you piss me off for the rest of our lives.”

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely no prizes are available for guessing which [song](https://youtube.com/watch?v=eH3giaIzONA) Hux is dancing to :P
> 
> My google image references:  
> [Waist harness (femme model)](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1chI1XiYrK1Rjy0Fdq6ACvVXax/Women-2019-Sexy-Punk-Leather-Waist-Cincher-Rave-Garter-Belt-with-2-Suspenders-Straps-and-Detachable.jpg)  
> [Butt plug](https://www.tfdmarket.com/hxz/hxzmxlw05.jpg)


End file.
